


Save Me (Be Careful, I'm Like Fire)

by Kiiyah



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, B.A.P - Freeform, Daehyun is here to help, Daehyun is so supporting, Depression, Hope, I did tag them, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Recluse Youngjae, Reticent, Shyness, Social Anxiety, Socially inexperience Youngjae, Some Fluff, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, college boy daehyun, daejae - Freeform, getting kicked out, save youngjae from himself, will the other members apppear?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-27 04:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiyah/pseuds/Kiiyah
Summary: Youngjae is a recluse, afraid of interacting with world and all who inhabit it.At the young age of 24,  will he become confident enough socially and psychologically, even if he rarely ventures outside his yard?





	1. Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> Daehyun' s just a college boy, and part-timing as a mailman
> 
>  
> 
> *Story reposted from AFF.*

If only he knew how to fix this.

A continuous line what ifs and still not a single one gave the answers he needed. Whatever he was to find; It wasn't there. Or it wasn't what he wanted.

Day in and out, Youngjae's thoughts spiraled in a this same, vicious, repetitive pattern- always trying to find answers to the same questions, pondering the same thoughts, looking through the same dusty window.

Everything was perpetually the same.

Today seemed to play out no differently, as he was, observing throughout the same window, watching with fearful eyes as his neighbors went on their daily routine..

Its come to that, hasn't it? He doesn't even know how it feels to talk with someone anymore, to hold a proper conversation without buring holes in the floor, and digging nails into his skin.

His hand, gently curled around the curtain, clenched at the thought. Angry? No, that was hardly what he was feeling at the moment. Stressed? If you can call it that- then yes he was feeling monumentally stressed at the moment.

He let the curtain fall without a thought, the burgandy fabric falling gently in place.

The sun was setting, but he hadn't even woken up yet.

****

It was a wish of his to stop being so nostalgic. To stop looking in the past, to stop dwelling on old mistakes and letting it affect him; but why was that so difficult?

The clock sitting on his beside him silently bleeped, reading "12:00 a.m". His eyes were dry, stinging from being awake for far too long; His brain felt tense, like it was trapped in a vise grip, parched and unyielding.

Like a form of torture, he was inflicting it upon himself.

Being exhuasted didn't even cover it, as his mind tediously decided to list dozens of reasons to why staying awake later would damage his health; but since when did he give two cents about his health anyway? For all he desired, his entire self would still fail to perish. Stubborn bastard, he is.

He was so done with living.

The blankets wrapped around him did nothing to obscure his lanky form. It seems that he's only,really been eating enough to stay alive- his appetite diminished some days, and ravenous in a few.

His mind wandered aimlessly now, flickering through dozens of unpleasant memories. Sometimes gently dipping through the barest relivings of his emotions;poo mono until his brain sputtered, like a rusty aged engine trying to get one through that last mile.

It was those times when his father's eyes would draw over him and sneer, clicking his tongue as he callously appraised Youngjae's physique- throwing stinging insults and watching how he struggled under his gaze.

It was a favorite pastime of his, making fun of his own son just to watch him squirm. Youngjae knew he should've just stood still and bared with it, but he couldn't stomach the insults the way they were- blunt and raw. He recalled thinking at time that fathers weren't supposed to act this way- that they'e supposed to be more loving and supportive- but thinking that was useless, considering how it got him nowhere.

It hadn't changed a thing.

Just mere moments before the sun rose, he finally slipped out of consciousness.

****

Youngjae retained an income that was very much stable, as precarious as it seemed. He hosted a digital book shop that touted both digital and physical wares. Really, it was easier this way, since he didn't have to go out much, save for sending the packages, for which he always did at night.

Day trips were rare since he tended to stay away from other people. Save for that one mailman, and the post office lady, Soo-yeon.  
.

The only reason he remembered the mailman, was because he was young- majority of the mailers were older males, and a select few were much older females. Somehow he stood out- but not enough for Youngjae to recall his name.

That's it, there was one of them now. He took a peep out of the door's peephole and watched as a young man bounced up the pathway, package in hand.

Oh speak of the devil, here he was now. Golden brownish hair, with a complexion similar to his- this was the exact guy Youngjae was just thinking about.

It was kinda late to be delivering a package, now that he thought about it; a quick glance at the clock told him 6 p.m. Indeed a late time, but not out of the ordinary.

The doorbell rang a couple times, but he didn't answer it. He wondered why he couldn't just do it this time, considering he had no problems answering the door previously.

Moments later his thoughts were broken when a box slid through the pet door, landing promptly in front of his feet.

What an odd use for he'd completely forgotten about- albeit, a great deal easier.

Funny, he never did that before- did he know that Youngjae was there? He looked through the peephole again to find the man staring through.

He jumped back, heart thudding against his ribcage. "What in the world-"he muttered, trying to calm himself as he stared at the door, as if expecting it to burst open any second. He double checked the locks- nope he was safe. Youngjae hardly thought the guy was capable of breaking and entering, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Thankfully it did not. He locked the door( call him paranoid, but he didn't know this man- there's no way he trust him anyhow), and scanned the area outside his window. Clear. Thank goodness.

He rounded on the package and picked it up, noticing it wasn't from his usual vendors. Frowning, he seated himself on the floor, slicing the front flaps with a credit card.

Inside were dozens of items- upon further investigation, it seemed like more of a care package, with snacks, candles, and incense taking up more than half the space. The other half included more snacks, cheap ones at that, but from brands Youngjae hadn't seen since he was a child. A note, in an unassuming tan envelope, had been crammed into one corner, was the first thing he set up oprning.

He didn't remember paying anyone the sort of kindness required for this benevolent act, but this, this might tell him something.

He opened the letter, unfolding it and reading aloud.

Dear Yoo Youngjae,

Umm, hi. Soo-yeon was actually the one who started this whole thing…she wanted the people in the community to get to know each other better, so we're hosting a party in a few weeks.

Oops, silly me, I forgot to introduce my self. I'm Jung Daehyun, college attendee and part-time mailman. I'm sure you've seen me more than a couple times, no doubt. I've never really seen you though. Not that it's a bad thing- you probably really shy and-

Oh, I'm just running, my mouth, err, hand again. Sorry about that.

Well anyway, this package was a sort of secret Santa project, even though it's not December- don't worry about getting anybody anything. You we're the last on the list, so you can say this I just fulfilled your request, even though you didn't have one….

That sounded confusing…never mind that. Just, enjoy.

Sincerely,

Jung Daehyun

Dumfounded, he looked over the letter again, then back at the box, then back at the letter. This action repeated itself for a few minutes before it clicked.

The box was nice and all, but it felt unwarranted- it was custom to repay someone once they've given you a gift, but Youngjae was clueless. Even though letter said repayment wasn't needed, it somehow felt wrong. His stomach churned at the thought of just locally shopping for a gift- ordering one would take too much time, plus he needed it now- or never.

Maybe sleep would be of some use. For the past few days, admittedly, sleeping was somehow more difficult than ever.

To rehash; He'd broken more than a few plates in his kitchen, as his hand tremors became significantly worse. Not only that, his computer was acting up, and business had slowed to bare minimum.

There's a lot more, he knew it, but he can't really remember specifics anymore. Just that there was so many more mishaps than he could count.

Did this even make any sense at all? He was too tired to sleep, but not alert enough to be awake.

Everthing was confusing to him, so much to the point that he felt like a fool trying to drown himself in books. Endless texts that felt more like homework than enjoyment.

So tell him, where had all that enjoyment gone? Even the wisest could answer that, but Youngjae is not at all wise.

He wouldn't be in this situation if he was. 


	2. Piece of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun gets a present Youngjae unneccessarily agonized over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ch is short, more of a filler than anything. Hope you enjoy.

The days seem to pass along more peacefully if he didn't think about the life he was actually living.

If you could really call it a life, judging by the way he was lounging right now, legs crossed and book propped his knee.

No, reading wasn't the terrible thing, it was how sedentary his life was, how much he spent in his house rather going out. It was just, debilitating. It wasn't normal, going by whatever his notion of normal was.

I guess you couldn't call his life fully sedentary if you counted the moments he waited for Daehyun to deliver, nervous blood pumping through his veins and the swiftness of his stride increasing with every step. Not that he was really waiting, per se- it's not like he didn't just check his door about 6 times daily, three days after the package; yep, totally not counting on it.

Oh who ws he trying to fool? The only person here was himself, and he already knew exactly what he was doing.

The small gift bag behind him said it all.

The level of thought required in getting the gift was alright, the real hassle had been actually getting it.

He was so nervous, to the point it felt ridiculous, since he didn't think anybody else would quite ever feel the same way. Then again, how would he know- he rarely had face-to-face conversations nowadays.

It was days like this he felt extremely lonely. It shouldn't feel so wrong to crave attention like this. Yet it did? His stomach bubbled at the thought- sadly the last time he got some attention was for the death of his father.

He'd traveled back to that same hometown that rejected him, watching as they praised a man they never really knew, and shunned someone they never bothered to know.

Why did he think of that now, of all times? Why couldn't he remember the more joyous times, when he wasn't so bleak and condescending toward himself?

Oh, silly him, thinking about such things will get him nowhere.

He let out a heavy sigh, peeking out of the window once more. He could see Daehyun venturing down the sidewalk once again, package in hand. He knew the contents of this parcel, but that wasn't important right now.

This was it. Youngjae briefly re-checked the contents of the bag, as well as the ridiculous implications of this whole situation. "Just do it" he whispered to himself, before pushing the bag through the pet door.

It landed with a thump on the other side, just as Daehyun entered his walkway. Oh how thrilling this was for him; he couldn't remember the last time he was this excited.

Daehyun, who'd just arrived at his last stop of the day, dropped the package on the doorstep. This inhabitant was pretty shy, so he knew that coming on the door was a no go. Sooyeon always remarked "knock slightly, or don't do it at all, since he would be easily startled." He smiled, thinking of the parcel he dropped off the other day. He did tell Youngjae not to repay him, but-- he does a double-take on the resting on the floor-- but it seems like he did anyway. He picks up the back, taking a glance at the card to make sure it was addressed to-- yep it was.

"Umm, Youngjae-sshi, I did say that a gift was not needed, right?" He knocks on the door slightly while saying this, taking into account that Youngjae might actually be on the other side.

Youngjae, who was indeed startled, stared froze through the people hole. His heart was pounding, but he knew for sure that he could not open the door. Such a choice felt so complicated-- the door knob feeling like it was miles away instead of a few inches from his hand.

He wouldn't though. Youngjae knew himself. It wouldn't happen. Confusingly enough, Daehyun continued to speak.

"Youngjae-sshi, thank you, though. I appreciate you taking the time to buy me something. It's not really in my nature to refuse a gift once it's bought, so I'll accept.

Youngjae, inside, scrambles around his house, quickly grabbing a pencil and a piece of paper. He starts writing, folds it up, and pushes it out his pet door again.

He stands and through the peep hole sees Daehyun bending over and picking it up. After unfolding it, for a brief moment Youngjae over thought what he had written, watching Daehyun' s widen; before curling into something Youngjae never thought he'd see: a crisp, warm smile.

It was then he saw Daehyun pull his own pen put and scribble something on his note. He did the same, folding it back and through the pet door, before heading off. It promptly flopped on the floor in front of him.

Youngjae waited until the man was at the start of the street before focusing back on the note.

It read

* Thanks. You didn't have too though. I did say that, didn't I? God, I'm repeating myself. Anyway, take care.

-Daehyun *

Even though the note was brief, just enough for Youngjae to be the message, and not really mean anything, it still meant the world to him. Something about this felt like a step in the right direction. A step toward something better. Youngjae really needed that goodness in his life.

Oh, and what did he give Daehyun? A simple journal. It was not much, but since he had no idea what Daehyun liked to read, or if he even read at all, a journal was the easiest thing.

It helped him sometimes, so why not?

He went over to his desk and pulled out drawer settled on the right side, placing the note there. Who knows when something like that will ever come to him again- he'll take what he can get.

A habitual glance at the time told him it was just after 3:30 pm. The day wasn't even over but he already felt so tired. He briefly tapped the touchpad on his laptop. He was supposed to finish an order, but on a whim, he decided to put it off for tomorrow.

Nap first. Work later.

Exhaustion really had habit of getting in the way. This time, though, he was actually content-- now being able to fall asleep easily.


	3. Repeated day's can't be special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Youngjae has one of those days. You know, the ones when your so depressed even getting out of bed to face life seems like a chore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: mentions of a claustrophobic situation, and a somewhat graphic description of a past cutting incident(s).
> 
> Enjoy?!

Today was one of his fabled good days. A rarity, considering his days largely consisted of abysmal moping and phantom pains that continued on through the hours.

He wanted to go out. Then he didn't. Then he did. Youngjae realized that he was neither physically, nor mentally in shape to even attempt a day trip, but he couldn't stop himself from desiring that small freedom.

He instead decided on watching T.V. For the first time, the television was actually being used. Unfortunately, it was nothing fancy, just an outdated, late 2000's era box T.V. Though, it would do. He grabbed the remote and flipped through some random channels. News. Flip. Cartoons. Flip. Some show he didn't know the name of. Flip. A cooking channel. This was harmless. Youngjae wasn't great at cooking, but he was decent enough. Maybe here he'll actually learn to cook properly.

An hour in, his mind began to drift off. He picked up his phone, checking the time. 11:30 am. It was too early for lunch, but too late for breakfast. Not that he was hungry; he was still full , since he ended up pigging out on the food during the night, mistakingly falling asleep right after.

Even more bored now, he opened a game on his phone. It was some kind of bubble blasting game, you know-- the one you get mistled into downloading after watching a million ads about it? Yeah, Youngjae probably had a dozen games like that on his device. He really didn't like looking up games to download, so he just waited for them to come to him. Totally a bad way to get around things, but hey, he had better things to do than search for games to play all day.

Even though he probably had all day to play them.

It served him alright, and kept him occupied for another hour or so, before his stomach finally began to growl.

His fridge was decently stocked-- decently meaning that he had about enough food to last him for a week before he'd actually run out. This was honestly his least favorite chore to do, considering there was so much that could go wrong just from him going out--this anxiety never wavered, no matter how frequently he did his shopping. Youngjae had no problem texting, or even emailing people, but once you tried calling him, or confronting him face to face, he was a goner. He always had felt like people expected him to answer questions too fast, like his time was running out, and he was the world's sacrificial lamb.

The fridge door thunked closed. Suddenly he didn't feel too hungry anymore.

-///-

The walls, he could feel them closing in, white walls peeling with plaster, the internal wires and brown of its paper backing showing through. He didn't understand why this was happening, since he wasn't claustrophobic, and nothing seemed familiar. Time seemed to slow here as well, making the walls closing in on his chest feel suffocating even with minimal pressure. He was going to die, he just knew it. It was inevitable.

Until something happened. Something that never quite made any sense within this dimension.

A hand slipped through, cushioning the area between his chest and the ever advancing wall. It pushed and at first, nothing happened. Youngjae felt like crying all over again. It never worked when he tried, so chances of it succeeding were even less with this stranger here.

An painful wave of helplessness and nausea overwhelmed him, and so he heaved, gagging a little. The hand was still there, seemingly pushing and stagnant all at the same moment. Again, it didn't seem to be doing anything. It was just there. Existing.

Another wave of nausea kicked through him, this one strong enough to push his dream self back to reality. A very desolate one.

He shot up in his bed, the motion a little too fast and jarring, his head ending up falling back on the sweat dampened pillow. His skin felt cold and sticky with said sweat, not to mention his sheets were crumpled and tangled around his body in a frantic mess.

Youngjae, feeling entirely catatonic and stiff, realizes that leaving the bed would, in its entirety, be a terrible idea.

His dream, though.

These dreams he has, as of late, had been cutting off in much the same way every night. Except for the hand, everything else was the same. The crushing walls, the intense nausea, and the helplessness- all of it-- the same.

Sleeping was much a nightmare for this reason. With or without help.

His sleeping pills were only used occassionally, but when he was really suffering, somedays he take more than the recommended amount, even with his safety at stake. He never really did care about his safety.

It just so happens to also be the days where his self-loathing would take extreme turns, the so called conventional "cutting" moments that everyone seems associate with suicidal behavior.

He quickly learned why bloodletting was such a common practice in medieval times-- something about did feel relieving, letting all that blood flow out of him, letting it drip down into the sink and out of his body, somewhere where it couldn't get him.

It was stupid, but it gave the relief where pill and sleep didn't. Though Youngjae also learned just as quickly that the feeling of losing too much blood wasn't just peace, but him actually passing out from the loss itself.

He rolled over in his bed, lifting his arms up to stare at the scars. It was embarrassing for him, so when he did go out, it was covered up with the mass of sweaters he owned in his closet. Sometimes the scars throbbed when he thought about them, as if they were alive and trying to let some horrible creature breakthrough from his skin. Maybe his imagination wasn't as far as he thought.

His bathroom held a mirror, which also put him off, mostly because he hated how haggard he looked in front of it. He wasn't exactly a supermodel, and no amount of people could persuade him otherwise. His looks felt average, but it wasn't that which unsettle him the most. It was like, every time he looked at himself, he saw how thickly the pain was layered onto his face, and it made him wonder nobody else could see it like he does. How obvious the signs are.

They probably have some filter for it, some kind of device that allows them to turn a blind eye. Whatever it was, he wish he had it too.

He tugged a second pillow close and hugged it close, its lump inconsistency making his vulnerable state bearable for the moment. His body throbbed with a sinking energy. This--he didn't want this.

His loneliness painfully doubled tenfold in these moments-- and usually, that's when the tears begin to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm, please don't hesitate on commenting. I really would like to hear what all of you have to say.
> 
> On another note, thanks to those who've followed my stories- I'll try hard to push out consistent updates, since I take forever to do so.


End file.
